


i've been seeing your soul

by arekiras



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon Compliant, Communication, Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s01e16-17 Peter Nureyev and the Angel of Brahma, M/M, Other, Peter's Tragic Backstory (TM), Post-Episode: s02e34-35 Juno Steel and the Soul of the People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arekiras/pseuds/arekiras
Summary: “We never really got a chance to talk about it, with everything that happened. What I saw, I mean. In the tomb, before you escaped. I guess I figured that you deserved to know. It is your memories that I’m carrying around with me, and even if you consented to it, it feels weird having them without your knowledge,” Juno explains. Especially with how I have treated the pieces of yourself that you have given to me in the past, he does not add.Juno and Peter talk about the past.(title from drop the game by flume, nick murphy/chet faker)





	i've been seeing your soul

Juno shuffles his feet in the hall of the ship, lurking outside of his own door for a few moments, watching the beam of light visible in the crack beneath Nureyev’s door with some apprehension. It’s late, but Nureyev keeps hours nearly as odd as Juno. The ship is silent, save the whir of machinery and creak of metal. 

He sets off down the hall toward Nureyev’s door, reaches it, and promptly turns around again, leaning against the wall a few feet away. He walks past Nureyev’s door this time, in the direction of the common area before realizing he has no reason to go there and turning back around. 

Nureyev and Juno have… reconciled. Juno doesn’t know if that’s the right word, really, with how fragile things are between them. Benign, ambivalent, but fragile. New and so, so unsteady. Juno could be about to ruin everything, but  _ honesty, dammit.  _ He promised Nureyev (and himself) honesty, when they finally had a series of needed conversations about two weeks before. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Nureyev’s door jerks open. Juno blinks at him, heart suddenly pounding. Nureyev looks almost as undone as Juno has ever seen him, hair still damp from the shower, sleep shirt loose and frayed at the hem. He isn’t wearing his glasses, and squints a little when he looks at Juno, but he’s smiling. 

“I figured that if I waited for you to pluck up the courage to knock, it would be a few hours at least, and it is rather late,” Nureyev says teasingly. “I didn’t realize we were already at the stage of secret, starlit rendezvous, detective.” 

Juno scowls. “That’s not- we’re not, I mean,” he pauses, gathers himself, “I’m not a detective anymore,” is what he settles on. 

Nureyev laughs quietly. Juno melts a little at that. If there’s one thing he can say he truly appreciates about himself, it’s the ease with which he can make Nureyev laugh. “Just because you’re no longer a private investigator does not mean you aren’t a detective, Juno. But I don’t think that’s what you came to discuss. You did want to talk about something, yes?” 

Juno sighs. “Yes. Can I come in?” Nureyev steps back, holding the door open for him. Juno walks through the cloud of Nureyev’s soap smell, different than the cologne he wears, but just as appealing. Juno is beginning to suspect it has much less to do with the product and much more to do with the man wearing it. 

Nureyev closes the door softly behind them and leans against it, regarding Juno curiously as he wanders about the small space. Juno has never actually been in Nureyev’s room before and takes a moment to inspect all of the trinkets and gadgets and hidey holes Nureyev has packed it full with. A small potted plant here (how it’s alive, Juno couldn’t say), a box of costume jewelry there, tapestries and stolen art covering much of the metal walls. It feels like a magpie nest, or a dragon’s den. 

Finally, he sits on the edge of Nureyev’s bed, one hand coming up to rub at his face. He left his eyepatch in his room and rubs around the lower lid of his missing eye with his knuckles. After long hours of being covered, the skin feels slightly irritated. 

“What is it, Juno?” Nureyev asks gently, joining Juno on the bed. Their knees touch. 

“Could you feel it? When I was in your mind,” Juno says, eyes trained on a print of an abstract painting tacked onto the wall across from them, swirling colors combined with wavering shapes. 

“In a way. You don’t know what it feels like to be alone in your own mind until you aren’t. It felt a bit like something squeezing my brain. Not tightly, but squeezing nonetheless,” Nureyev says, voice a little strained. They very pointedly do not talk about the events of the Martian tomb. 

“But you couldn’t see what I saw?” Juno presses. 

“Well, a lot of the time the point was that you were seeing what  _ I  _ saw. But no, not really. Just that you were seeing  _ something _ . Juno, why are you asking?” Nureyev asks again. 

Juno turns his head to look at Nureyev for the first time. His face is pinched into not-quite-a-frown, and he’s put his glasses on. Juno shrugs, shoulders tight at his neck for a moment, before he forces himself to relax, looking away again. 

“We never really got a chance to talk about it, with everything that happened. What I saw, I mean. In the tomb, before you escaped. I guess I figured that you deserved to know. It is your memories that I’m carrying around with me, and even if you consented to it, it feels weird having them without your knowledge,” Juno explains.  _ Especially with how I have treated the pieces of yourself that you have given to me in the past _ , he does not add. 

“How do you know I want to know?” Nureyev asks pointedly. 

“Don’t you?” Juno replies. 

“The point of why I initially gave you permission to read my mind has long passed. I’m not wrong in assuming that you have decided that I am worth trusting?” Nureyev deflects.

“Of course I have. But I’m trying out this whole honesty thing, openness and communication and all that,” Juno says. 

“How very valiant of you. Very well, Juno. What is it that you saw?” Nureyev sounds so resigned that Juno regrets coming at all, but when he looks over again, Nureyev is watching him intently. 

Juno’s gaze goes to another print on the wall, of what he thinks is an ancient map of Earth. “I saw Brahma. I saw New Kinshasa, a floating city. I saw the Guardian Angel System, and how far some people will go for what they think is right. And I saw the birth of a legend.” Nureyev is silent for a long time, and Juno doesn’t dare look at him. He examines the continents on the map, whole oceans between them. He wonders how people separated by entire seas can possibly say they exist in the same place. 

“Why that memory, do you think? Out of all the things you could have seen?” Nureyev finally asks. He reaches over across the sea between them and takes Juno’s hand. Juno squeezes, trying to be comforting. 

“I think I was looking for something true. Completely honest, like a foundation of who you are. Buried beneath a million masks, I wanted to see where it all came from. Did you ever go back? To Brahma,” Juno says. 

“No. Never. And the fact that I’m probably their number one most wanted criminal is only the half of it,” Nureyev chortles bitterly. “Thank you for telling me, Juno, really. But I don’t think I can talk about it anymore.” 

Juno nods. “Should I go?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Nureyev tightens his grip on Juno’s hand. “You could stay, if you have no objection.” 

Juno smiles, leaning over to rest his head on Nureyev’s shoulder. “None at all.” 


End file.
